


51 Connors Total

by ArtJunkyard



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is Bad at Feelings, Connor-38, Connor-38 kills some people, Connor-centric, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Fighting, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, I want Connor and North to be pals but not right away, Markus is cool with Connor though, Minor Character Death, NO Swearing, No bad language, POV Alternating, Pacifist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), but they'll waRM UP THATS IMPORTANT TO ME, in this North hates Connor but she warms up to him I promise, original character YK400, past connor, same with the rest of the jericrew, switches between our Connor and Connor-38, they don't like Connor rn and mostly won't in this fic as its early on in the timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24528820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtJunkyard/pseuds/ArtJunkyard
Summary: Things have been going quite well since Connor deviated. By that, I mean he hasn't been berated with split second life-or-death moral decisions that cause lasting consequences on both his and other's mental health for at least a month. He'll take it.Markus' successful, peaceful revolution has given him the chance to rejoin the DPD as Lieutenant Hank Anderson's permanent partner. The newly appointed 'Detective Connor' cherishes every murder case that slides onto his terminal.Then a year old paper case file is slammed onto his desk, and Connor may just have to rely on his programmed Deviant Hunter skills once again to solve the case - but the android perps Connor used to catch had never before been as advanced as him.
Relationships: Connor & Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	1. Isn't That An Outdated Way Of Storing Case Details?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first DBH fic, and my first story in a while to be multi-chapter. I hope you guys stay with me and enjoy!
> 
> This story takes place a month after the best ending.

**DEC 17TH** 2038

AM **9:04** :09

Connor subconsciously flicked his coin between his fingers, the silver quarter pinging quietly against his plastimetal chassis. Heavy metal tracks from over a decade ago screamed through the speakers of Hank’s car, the bass rattling the framework and making the carpet beneath the android’s feet vibrate with energy. The Lieutenant himself tapped along to the ‘tune’ on the steering wheel while muttering barely audible lyrics. Despite the fact that Connor simply _couldn’t_ figure out what made this particular music genre so appealing to such a vast percentage of humans (and androids, for that matter - he had caught North whisper-screaming the words to several songs that he’d also heard being blasted through Hank’s headphones), he tried his best to tolerate the racket for his friend’s sake; Connor already took up space in the man’s own home and had made a few choice tweaks to his woefully unhealthy diet, so he figured he was in no place to dictate Hank’s choice in music too. Let him “have _some_ fun”, as the Lieutenant would say.

The android’s mind wandered to the meeting he was scheduled to attend in New Jericho that night.

Connor simply didn’t feel at home in New Jericho like every other deviant did - he was still racked with guilt at the thought of his previous actions while he had still been under the influence of CyberLife. Many lives had been destroyed in his last ditch attempt to accomplish his mission. He still squirmed at the concept of having to visit the new deviant haven every Friday, but Markus insisted he attended every week. According to the older android, New Jericho needed Connor to be present - the ex-deviant hunter had gained a following of admirers from the androids he freed from CyberLife Tower, which was news to him. Connor was usually too busy keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact to notice if anyone was gazing at him in awe instead of glaring daggers into his back. Markus also stated that he wanted the detective to join them because he “ _valued his company and trusted his input_ ” which Connor found to be slightly too far-fetched to be true. The man constantly reminded him that he was not there as a means to their own end, or to be used as a walking tool to help them accomplish their mission. It was even harder to believe that this reason was the one Markus considered to be _more important_.

The other three leaders were more hesitant about Connor’s general existence and inclusion in New Jericho’s governance than Markus was.

Josh was only wary of his presence. To a man who wanted nothing but peace, having an actual assassin join their little team was more than enough to make him question if Markus was switching tactics. But after seeing that he and the ex-hunter held similar viewpoints in adopting a conflict-free approach to fighting for their rights, Josh had began to warm up to Connor, asking for his opinion and including him more in discussions - though mainly in his discourse against North, as he knew he would back up his side with proper evidence and facts. He still wasn’t as accepting as Markus, but he was better than his peers.

However, Connor was no pacifist. While he didn’t want war, he also didn’t agree with the extremes Josh was sometimes willing to go to avoid looking threatening. The man didn’t even want to condone fighting in self defence, but instead wanted to teach deviants how to avoid certain people or quickly escape a dangerous situation unnoticed. He knew that humans would take any violence as _assault_ and grind their efforts to secure freedom to a halt. Connor had voiced that standing up for yourself and sending the message that you _matter_ and _don’t want to be hit_ should be allowed, only to be met be betrayed glances from Josh and a snarky gibe from North regarding his past profession (“I was under the impression that you thought self defence was a _crime_ , Connor.”). He didn’t speak for the rest of the meeting.

Simon avoided him like the plague at first; his pale eyes flitted down every time Connor approached and immediately snapped back to analyse him as soon as the RK had turned his back. He always positioned himself furthest away from Connor at meetings, but fidgeted skittishly with his hands and sleeves the entire duration anyway. Connor didn’t blame him. He himself had planned to expose Simon on the roof of Stratford tower - he had figured out that there was a deviant left behind from the infiltration and a deviant in the kitchen, but the broadcaster androids were unattended, unwounded and held far better chances of escaping than a bleeding android surrounded by both FBI and DPD officers. Therefore, Connor had elected to interrogate the JB300s first, with every intention to circle back. He hadn’t anticipated that the rogue android would pin him to the counter with a knife and rip out his thirium pump regulator. The deviant hunter had emerged with a ripped shirt and a bloodied body, the sight of which regrettably scared Lieutenant Anderson enough to cut the investigation short. The PL600 remained untouched on the roof.

Simon always seemed too intimidated to speak out during meetings, and instead communicated with his friends using nods and various facial expressions (‘confusion’, ’concern’ and ‘resignation’ were recurring favourites). The only time he actually talked was to act as a mediator between North and Josh, who bickered over every little detail discussed in any given topic. Recently though, Simon had began to loosen up, if only minutely. He wasn’t as restless, he didn’t watch Connor’s every move as if afraid that he would whip out an armada of concealed firearms and shoot the place up at any moment. Connor found that the crushing pressure of wanting to correctly preserve that speck of trust was even worse than the pounding guilt he had felt when Simon hadn’t trusted him at all.

But the worst came in the form of a redheaded WR400 with a chip on her shoulder and an affinity for violence. Her name was North, and was she quite possibly the most cynical, hardboiled deviant Connor had ever had the misfortune of crossing paths with. She had no trouble bringing up his past and utter untrustworthiness at every opportunity, despite her lover’s endless chastising (and Connor’s endless embarrassment). She had kept her mouth shut during Connor’s first days as a deviant, allowing him to help her and Markus when she got shot in the attack on Jericho and making sure he jumped from the sinking vessel, but now she seemed to have reminded herself that he could still destroy everything they had worked for. She scoffed at his suggestions and scowled at him when Markus agreed with him. She constantly put herself between him her people when he walked down hallways or strolled through the yard, shielding them from Connor’s eyes incase he got any ideas.

Due in part to Markus’ berating and Connor’s lack of threatening behaviours, North had started to make her hatred of the ex-deviant hunter less public. She had known that her actions would lessen her people’s trust in Connor, which is what she wanted, but what she _didn’t_ want was for panic to spread across the compound, making like harder for everyone, including her friends and her boyfriend. The continued wrinkling of her nose every time Connor spoke did not go unnoticed, however.

Connor was glad to have something he loved to take his mind off things - his brand new detective career.

Work started the same way as it had every morning since Connor had been allowed to come back to the precinct - not as a tool, but as a paid employee. After bringing his ( _official_ ) partner a coffee from the break room, Connor sat down at his desk and connected to his terminal, ready to resume work on the intriguing case that the pair had been working on for the past week. The killer had stabbed his victim with one fatal blow through the heart, but there had been no sign of the murder weapon at the crime scene, no eyewitnesses and no suspects that didn’t have an iron-clad alibi. The sheer illusiveness of the case fascinated the android, but served to only frustrate Hank. It didn’t escape Connor’s notice that his friend’s eyes were clouded over with disinterest, the man not bothering to read the files displayed at his terminal. He was hunched forward in his chair, his cheek resting on his right fist. Connor sighed. Sometimes he wished his friend could at least _fake_ decency.

“Lieutenant,” Connor began, rousing Hank from his brooding and earning him a hum of acknowledgement. “It might help to at least make a start. We’re looking at the problem with fresh minds and-”

“We’ve been looking at the problem with ‘ _fresh minds_ ’ all week, Connor,” Hank grunted. “It’s a dead end, I’m tellin’ ya.”

“Then you’ll be pleased to know you’re off the case.” A beige paper file was slammed down on Hank’s desk by none other than Captain Fowler.

There was a mixed reaction, to say the least.

Hank simply yawned, stretching off the last of his tiredness. He grumbled an ‘Ugh, _finally_ ’ before deleting every open window on his terminal, effectively ridding the his mind of the troublesome case entirely. Reaching over to grab the case file, he flipped through the pages, soaking in a general idea of what they’d be working on next. The only comment he made on it was to complain about the fact that the case file was _paper_ , because they weren’t ‘in the naughties anymore, _Jeffery_ ’.

Connor, however, was _not_ about to give up his case simply because it was _hard_. That’s what made it interesting! If everything could be solved within five minutes, there would have been no need for Connor to stay, nor any need for him to have been made at all. Backing down for the merereason of ‘my superior ordered me to’ just wasn’t in his nature, especially since he had deviated. And it certainly hadn’t stopped him before that either. Like it or not, Connor was going to succeed in his job, and he would _not_ be proved useless or subpar at his work - not like he had been with his previous purpose. Deviant hunting was wrong, and nothing would ever change his mind about that, but the crushing feeling of emptiness and regret he felt each time the Zen Garden’s temperature decreased wasn’t something he was going to forget for a while.

With his LED blinking and flashing like a tense, amber strobe light in his temple, the dedicated detective lurched forward and ripped the file from his startled partner’s hands and thrust it back to the captain, who took it on instinct, shock painting his usually rocky features.

“Captain,” Connor began, aware that his voice was tense with desperation but having no time to correct it, “I _assure_ you that there’s no need to transfer the case. Lieutenant Anderson and I are perfectly capable of solving it, we just need-” Fowler held his hand up for quiet, effectively silencing Connor.

“Of that, I have no doubt, detective. But the case goes to Reed. I need _you_ on this, that’s an order.” He tossed the file back on Hank's desk, who ignored it in favour of staring at Connor with his eyebrows raised in interest at the mild-mannered android’s outburst. “It’s a deviant murderer from a while back. He’s still dangerous, and none of my men have ever gotten close to finding him. But somethin’ tells me you’ll be able to crack it. Get started.” With that, he stomped back to his office, turning a blind eye to Connor’s weak protests.

Connor slumped heavily back into his chair and scowled at his desk. Hank let out a huff of laughter at his somewhat childish behaviour.

“What was that about, kid?” When Connor didn’t answer, he continued with a more lighthearted tone, as if figuring that it would loosen his partner’s tongue. “Fowler’ll be up my rear end if ya start the whole ‘you can’t tell me what to do’ gig with him. He’ll think I’ve rubbed off on ya.”

“I can confirm that your suspicions are unfounded, Lieutenant.”

“How come?”

“Being deemed inadequate for the completion of a task has never ended well for me.” The deviant hunter could sense the burning of the figures ‘51’ on his blazer breast. His past mistakes had been paid for with blood as blue as the deep ocean. “Or any android, for that matter. The same stakes are not so in this situation, I’m aware, but… It still seems… _dangerous_. I apologise. It must be a glitch.”

Hank snorted at his stupidly oblivious conclusion.

“Or it’s a _feeling_ , Tin-can.” He could almost hear the sarcastic comment running through the Lieutenant’s head: _America’s greatest detective, eh?_

Connor shuddered. A Feeling?

“That’s worse.”

His nose scrunched in disgust - _emotions were unpleasant things for such an unfair portion of the time_ \- making Hank shake his head in silent amusement before flicking through the case file once again, this time uninterrupted.

He read through the evidence, and grimaced at the date.

“ _Sheesh_ … this was _months_ back. Happened in _January_. How’s Jeffery expect us to get anythin’ more out of this one than that last bust case?”

“January? But the first deviant case file in the DPD occurred a month later,” Connor said, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. His analytical mind started to kick into overdrive as he took in implications of the paper binder. “And those files - they were never digitised. It’s as if somebody wanted minimal evidence that the crime ever took place at all. An obvious attempt to cover it up, but why not just keep it quiet? Why report it to the police, and then make a conscious effort to keep it off the records?”

“Maybe it was some real expensive model. Or it was an unreleased version or somethin’, and they didn’t want their tech copied. Or maybe…” Hank trailed off, lost in his train of thought while his forefinger tapped at a picture paper-clipped onto the beige paper file. He slid it across the desk for Connor to analyse as he continued, “Maybe they didn’t wanna cause a panic ‘cause a _military-grade_ android fought his way outta one of the most secure buildings in Detroit, and managed to take a kid with him.” The detective glanced up at the Lieutenant in confusion - his voice was matter-of-fact, but his face was expectant, as if Connor should have known this already. But Hank only gestured at the pages in from of him, urging the android to go ahead and find out for himself what Hank had discovered.

Connor scanned through the details of the crime, summarising them aloud.

“Two androids escaped CyberLife Tower on the twenty-third of January, 2038, where they were being tested in Research and Development. One of the androids, using programmed with military marksmanship and combat skills, shot nine employees dead in cold blood. Four of the staff were killed in an examination chamber where the androids were being assessed, and five others were terminated in their escape. The deviants have not been sighted since, correct as of the fifth of February, 2038.” An interesting scenario, Connor had to admit, but still three hundred and twenty-eight days old and more than likely a cold case. So why was his friend still staring at him pointedly, eyebrows raised and waiting patiently for the android’s penny to drop? He glanced up at Hank and shook his head slightly, indicating that he was still lost and was not making the connection. The lieutenant only rolled his eyes.

“The picture, nitwit. Recognise anyone?”

**[ _//_** _AnalyticScan.R2 SEQUENCE_ **_INITIATED//_ **

**_//_ ** _ANALYSING…_ **_//_ **

**_//_ ** _FOUR (4) POINTS OF INTEREST_ **_LOCATED//_ ]**

The printed photo was obviously footage from a CCTV camera, given the timestamps and camera location written in white CyberLife Sans in the top right-hand corner of the photo. The picture was grainy and distorted, the more refined features (such as the details in the two suspect’s faces) lost to the low quality. Data immediately slid into Connor’s HUD, each tab of information neatly organised and ready to be absorbed by the android.

**[//— O _BSERVATION:_** _TIMESTAMP DATED: 2038-01-23 SAT 13:07:29_

**_CONCLUSION: INCIDENT OCCURRED DURING OPTIMAL WORK HOURS_ **

_MANY EMPLOYEES PRESENT_

_MANY CASUALTIES_

**_— OBSERVATION:_ ** _CAMERA PLACEMENT: CYBERLIFE TOWER, FLOOR 0: LOBBY AREA_

**_CONCLUSION:_ ** _DEVIANTS EXITED USING_ **_MAIN ENTRANCE//_ ]**

Connor moved his attention to the two figures in the photo, both dashing to an unknown location out of range of the camera. There was a young male, perhaps thirty years old - which corresponded with Cyberlife’s usual age range for androids - who was holding a gun in his right hand. He stood at six foot tall and had short, dark hair which was messily swept to one side. He wore a CyberLife guard’s armoured uniform, minus the concealing helmet. Fresh red blood splattered his otherwise clean chest plate, matching the violent colour of the LED on his temple. Connor scanned the armour’s serial number. It was registered to a CyberLife employee named ‘David Armstrong’, who had been declared dead later that same day, confirming that the man had been killed by the android and stripped of his clothes, his blood shown staining the collar and chest plate area. Though the deviant’s head was turned to face an unseen door outside the perimeters of the footage, his dark, dangerous eyes glared with undiluted malice directly into the camera lens. As the edges of the security footage had distorted and become even more pixelated than the rest of the image, Connor realised that this android was in the process of hacking the camera, possibly making this the last shot of the deviants before they disappeared.

The first deviant held the hand of a much smaller figure, the second android to escape. She was a pink-faced child with untamed dirty-blonde hair that was so thick and bushy that it stifled the glow of her LED. The girl was wearing a stark white, sleeveless shirt with matching trousers and plimsoles complete with a blue, luminescent armband - a miniature version of the uniforms Connor had seen on the female androids in the CyberLife assembly plant. Her face was turned away from the camera, looking back to check if anyone was following them, but Connor could tell from the way her free hand clutched the taller android’s trouser leg that she was absolutely petrified.

**[ _//— OBSERVATION: GUN IN ADULT MODEL’S RIGHT HAND_**

**_MS853 BLACK HAWK_ **

_CAPACTIY: 17 ROUNDS (.355)_

_OVERALL: 8.5 INCHES / BARREL: 5 INCHES_

**_RECENTLY FIRED_ **

**_CONCLUSION: MUDER WEAPON//_ ]**

**[ _//ID TRACK_**

**_MODEL YK400 - CHILD ANDROID PROTOTYPE_ **

_SERIAL NUMBER: #454 374 998_

_DESIGNATION:_ **_CHARLOTTE_ **

_MANUFACTURE DATE: 03/25/2033_ **_//_ ]**

**[ _//ID TRACK_**

**_MODEL RK800 - DETECTIVE PROTOTYPE_ **

_SERIAL NUMBER: #313 248 317_ **_-38_ **

_PROTOTYPE ‘C’_

_DESIGNATION:_ **_CONNOR_ **

_MANUFACTURE DATE: 01/22/2038_ **_//_ ]**

Connor felt his thirium freeze. There must have been a mistake. It had to be. He had only deviated thirty-eight days ago, and there was a 0% chance that he had committed such a felony against his creators while still bound by their stifling programming and crushing red boundaries.

**[//** _REFRESH SCAN?_ **Y/N//]**

**[** **Y** **/** N **]**

**[//** _REFRESHING SCAN… PLEASE WAIT//_ **]**

**[** … **]**

**[//** _SCAN REFRESH_ **_COMPLETE//_ ]**

**[ _//_** _AnalyticScan.R2 SEQUENCE_ **_INITIATED//_ **

**_//_ ** _ANALYSING…_ **_//_ ]**

**[ _//ID TRACK_**

**_MODEL RK800 - DETECTIVE PROTOTYPE_ **

_SERIAL NUM___

A hint of rationale returning to his processor, Connor stopped the scanner cold in it’s tracks, knowing it was only going to confirm his fear. Desperately, he tried to access his memory files for one O’clock on the twenty-third of January.

**[//** _ACCESSING MEMORY FILES… PLEASE WAIT_ **_//_ ]**

**[** … **]**

**[// _NO FILES FOUND._** _TRY AGAIN?_ **Y/N//]**

**[** **Y** /N **]**

**[//** _ACCESSING MEMORY FILES… PLEASE WAIT_ **_//_ ]**

**[** … **]**

**[// _NO FILES FOUND._** _TRY AGAIN?_ **Y/N//]**

[Y/ **N** **]**

It wasn’t him. It _couldn’t_ be. But why else would there be a gap in his memory bank if not for a Connor somewhere along the line going rogue? He had both Connor-37’s and Connor-39’s memories, though they were irreplaceably bitcrushed and pixelated from data lost with every upload to a new vessel.

Connor had killed before. Daniel the PL600, the Stratford Tower deviant JB300 and the CyberLife guards in the elevator, to name a few. All had been necessary sacrifices in the name of a his mission objectives, whether it be stopping the revolution, or saving it. All could be excused, though the deaths he had caused while deviant were muddier waters for the law. They were trying their hardest to take Connor down discreetly, though they couldn’t do much without potentially alerting the wrath of several thousand of CyberLife’s most advanced androids. The last thing he wanted was more evidence stacked against him - and a slaughter of nine, video evidence, a convenient memory gap and no alibi? The media would eat it up with a spoon.

Yet another anxiety slid into Connor’s H.U.D.: it had only been approximately fifty-one hours and twenty minutes between Connor’s own deviation and Amanda’s return. If Connor-38 didn’t know about Kamski’s backdoor, how could anyone be sure that this android was still in control?

A second deviant hunter was definitely something to worry about.

**[STRESS LEVELS^]**

**[68%]**

His LED hadn’t shifted from amber.

“So?” A gruff voice pulled Connor from his panicked scramble to find himself an alibi and back to reality. His eyes flicked to the lieutenant’s desk for a millisecond before he decided he’d rather not see the man’s accusing face. Instead, he kept his focus trained on the tiny, pixelated features of himself, who glared up at him with the resolute eyes of a war-hardened soldier.

“January twenty-third. I have no data of that day,” Connor answered quietly, cringing at how incredibly convenient that sounded.

“Really?” Hank sounded taken aback, his tone no longer lilted with the slight hint of humour it had retained before, while watching the deviant beside him struggle to recognise his own face in a photo. “Why not?”

“In the seconds before a Connor’s destruction, a memory upload takes place in order to conserve the data collected during it’s active perimeters. If Connor-38 was never destroyed, then he would’ve had no reason to preform an upload. Connor-39 would never have received his memories. The deviant was active for less than twenty-four hours before he went rogue, which correspond to the hours that are missing from memory bank.”

“So he’s still alive.”

“Possibly, though if he _had_ been killed, his data would be lost. I would never receive his memories. But I assume Captain Fowler is aware of my skillset and does not want a potentially unstable version of myself on the streets-” Connor finally made eye contact with Hank, “-and if anyone can find me, it’s me.”

Hank didn’t look so sure. He faced his partner, slouched back in his swivel chair, arms folded across his chest. His eyebrows were furrowed and his blue eyes were searching, piercing into Connor’s. As if the deviant was withholding information. As if he were _hiding_ something. No one knew of Amanda’s existence except him - and no one knew of her attempt to override his control. Connor shifted uncomfortably on his seat. After a minute of silence, Hank took a breath and said;

“You _can_. You sure you _want_ to?”

**[ _//SELECT APPROACH//_ ]**

**[O] [PRAGMATIC]**

**[X] [TROUBLED]**

Connor thought for a moment. He knew he could share anything with Hank, but a part of him didn’t want to think about the moral repercussions of hunting down another deviant who probably just wanted to be free from CyberLife’s restraints. At times like this, Connor just wanted to do his job and sink into his original programming, let his protocols take the wheel. Emotions could be good, but overwhelming and difficult to deal with on a daily basis. Not a day had went by when his LED had remained a calming blue for a whole twenty-four hours since his deviation in the captain’s cabin on Jericho. Or since the start of his lease to the DPD, for that matter. Feelings were a constant messy glob that clung to his CPU, insistently dragging him down paths of unreason and panic. He still _felt_ when he closed himself off, but it helped numb the unyielding clutter of emotions that threw themselves at him day and night. The mere thought of it was tiring. This time, Connor just wanted to stick with the facts; this deviant was a murderer equipped with top-tier intelligence and combat abilities. He was dangerous to humans, and to other deviants. And Connor was the the most logical choice to help find him.

**[ _//_** _PRAGMATIC APPROACH_ **_ENGAGED//_ ]**

“Of course. He’s a threat to society as a whole. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t track him down.”

“Oh, don’t start,” Hank sighed. “You’re doin’ it again.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow, Lieutenant,” Connor said, blinking innocently.

“C’mon, kid. I didn’t become a detective for the laugh. Every time you hit a roadblock, you switch the machine back on. I wasn’t asking the deviant hunter, I was asking _Connor_.”

A small smile quirked Connor’s lips. It always amazed him that no matter how much time and effort was put into coding him, no matter how superior his software was to humans and other androids, no matter how _solid_ his logic was, Hank always seemed to find the words that tore down his resolve in ten seconds flat. He was beginning to think that the man was smarter than he was - though he would _never_ admit to thinking it. Finally, he sighed and admitted defeat.

**[ _//SELECT APPROACH//_ ]**

[O] [PRAGMATIC]

**[X] [TROUBLED]**

**[ _//_** _TROUBLED APPROACH_ **_ENGAGED//_ ]**

“I am… unsure of what mindset the Connor will be in,” the detective wrung his hands, trying to pick out the right words to best describe his feelings without hinting at Amanda’s existence. “He deviated under different circumstances, surrounded by different people in a different environment. I rebelled because I realised I didn’t want to be a tool anymore. He rebelled because he probably wouldn’t have survived otherwise. His brain will have branched off to an area I’m lucky enough to have never been in. Or at least, I don’t _remember_ being in…” Hank nodded thoughtfully.

“So what’s your conclusion?”

“I think…” Connor started, pausing to choose the correct dialogue, “The most logical course of action is to look for the deviant. Captain Fowler was right, I’ll be able to find him. There’s a chance that he’s unstable, and so we can’t risk endangering the public so recklessly. But… if we find him, and he’s _rational_ ,” _‘or in full control of himself’_ , Connor thought but didn’t add. _“_ …I’d rather we just leave him alone.” Hank seemed pleased with that answer. He rubbed his rough hands together and pulled his seat closer to the desk space between the partners, leaning forward in anticipation. A glint of excitement gleamed in his eyes, reigniting the old flame of a detective eager to solve a mystery.

“So where do we start?”

“I suggest the CyberLife tower. It was the deviants’ last known location.”

“Alright,” Hank said, clapping once before standing up and grabbing his coat. “Let’s go catch us a Connor.”


	2. Blue Eyed Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Connor-35's POV, a few Connors before the one that our Connor is hunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I lied in the last one - this is Connor-35, not Connor-38. It'll make sense in a bit. It's a fairly short chapter, just to introduce you to him. It/its pronouns for all androids in this one.

**RK-BAY**

**FLOOR -48** ; RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT

CYBERLIFE TOWER

 **JAN 9TH** 2038

AM **4:08** :37

**[ _//RK800_** _#313 248 317_ **_-35//_ ]**

**[ _//_** _STANDBY MODE_ **_ENGAGED//_ ]**

The android stood with its hands behind its back, dark eyes staring vacantly into the space before it. It had been in standby since the last programmer had left last night, exactly five hours, three minutes and fifty-two seconds ago. Its open eyes were glazed over and its expression was absent and entirely neutral, its mind numb and stuffed with cotton and fuzz, leaving no room for coherent trains of thought. It was told to simply stand still, and stand still it would.

It stood perfectly in the centre of a square space the size of a garage. All two hundred square feet gleamed flawless, glossy white, that matched the colour of its simple, short-sleeved prototype uniform. The sliding door in front of the android would be invisible to the biological eye, disguised as just another sheer wall in the blank room. There were no windows in this place. Why would there be? It was situated forty-eight levels below the surface. But the thirty-fifth Connor unit could never seem to shake the incessant line of faulty code that nagged at it relentlessly from the shadowy corners of its CPU, telling it that it _should_ be able to see outside, that it wasn’t _fair_ that it couldn’t. The prototype snuffed this glitch for the eighty-ninth time in its AI’s existence, and returned to his statue-esque stillness. Waiting.

The millisecond the sound of the door sliding open reached the android’s audio processors, it snapped out of standby mode, squaring his shoulders and equipping its face with its default polite smile, ready to receive new orders. It couldn’t help but notice how early the programmers were starting today, but humans were far superior, and it had no reason to question them. Its creators were aways right.

But the door revealed no programmers, scientists or engineers. Instead, Connor found itself frowning down at a little girl look-alike who had no place in the RK-BAY - a storage room for RK androids and the humans working on them _only_. The rule was extremely strict, as the RK series was top secret, and every employee was threatened with legal action if they were found to be the individual to spill it to the media. And if grown _humans_ were locked out, little androids should _definitely_ be.

**[ _//ID TRACK_**

**_MODEL YK400 - CHILD ANDROID PROTOTYPE_ **

_SERIAL NUMBER: #454 374 998_

_DESIGNATION:_ **_CHARLOTTE_ **

_MANUFACTURE DATE: 03/25/2033_ **_//_ ]**

The small android had flushed pink cheeks and was out of breath, panting as if it had been a human child running around the corridors for hours. Its blue eyes glinted as it flashed Connor a mischievous grin, showing two top incisors and a lower canine were missing - certain human flaws were part of the convincing ‘cuteness’ factor that engineers liked to add to their younger models to compete the illusion. Its dark blonde hair was wild and frizzy and free strands stood on end all over, some falling its face, though it didn’t seem to mind. It appeared younger than its YK500 successors, seeming to be closer to seven years old than the ‘500’s default nine years. It wore a white uniform similar to Connor’s, a linen tank top and long trousers, android triangle and armband. It squeezed in through the crack it had opened in the door, giggling at its own success.

Connor let out a small sigh. He knew of this ‘Charlotte’ android from the chatter it picked up from the programmers. Charlotte was a failed prototype for an unreleased branch of the YK400 models which contained lines of code from the EM400 ‘Jerry’ models in order to create more boisterous and animated children than the usual shy and angelic nature of child androids. Once the programmers had grown weary of its relentless energy, they decided that it would only serve to make profit loss. The experiment was labelled a failure and abandoned. The android’s days were numbered. Everyone knew that. But it didn’t stop the unit prancing around the hallways, charming the more soft-hearted guards into letting it ride the elevators and playing hide-and-seek with the oblivious engineers. It practically owned the five R+D floors. But Connor was not in the position to scoff at the humans. They were always right, after all.

It was often found in the bays of other prototype android series’ (though it was supposed to stay put in it’s YK-BAY on floor -46, two floors above). However, it had never dared to venture onto floor -48, known to be the storage space of experimental and possibly extremely dangerous military prototypes, including an advanced police android named Connor. This encounter would be Connor’s first face-to-face meeting with the troublesome android child.

While inconvenienced and irked at the thought of having to deal with the YK400, Connor knew it was of no threat to such an advanced model as an RK800. So it shifted its line of sight to look directly ahead, and once again entered standby.

**[ _//RK800_** _#313 248 317_ **_-35//_ ]**

**[ _//_** _STANDBY MODE_ **_ENGAGED//_ ]**

Its vision blurred and its awareness dropped, the lowering of the quality saving power. Its mind slipped back into numb semi-consciousness.

Until a sharp tug on it’s trouser leg yanked the RK back to reality.

Connor’s passive gaze morphed to a frustrated glare. It did not need to look down to know what had caused the sudden rebooting of its powered down systems. It looked down anyways.

Charlotte was standing less than a foot away from Connor, looking expectantly up at the RK with wide, sky blue eyes as it held out a brightly coloured bag filled with blue gummy sweets. Thirium candy, manufactured specifically for the YK series, but could technically be consumed by every android. Connor blinked. How did the ‘400 get its hands on those? Then the detective remembered that it could be found extremely annoying by human staff (not the RK though, it couldn’t feel _any_ emotion, including irritation - it was just a machine), and had probably been gifted them to placate its hyperactive nature.

“Gummy?” Charlotte offered innocently. Connor let out a quiet sigh, but put on its best negotiation voice to answer.

“If I eat a ‘gummy’, will you let me go back on standby?” Charlotte gave several exaggerated nods as another excited, toothy grin spread across its (admittedly) adorable face, before shaking the bag in its hand, urging Connor to take a sweet.

The RK800 reached into the plastic bag and selected a sticky blue gummy while deftly making sure it touched as little of its surface area as possible. Upon closer inspection, Connor realised the sweets were animal shaped, moulded into miniature versions of bears, dogs and elephants. The one to was holding had some semblance of a fish, though it was more of a simple, childlike design rather than any particular type.

“My favourite’s the monkey,” Charlotte said, picking out a gummy with the appearance of the same animal. “What’s yours?”

“I like the fish,” Connor replied, using the candy in its hand as its answer for convenience.

“What’s your second favourite?”

“Dogs.”

“What’s your third favouri-”

“-Why don’t we eat?” Connor interrupted with a smile, trying to keep the irritation from reaching his eyes. It must have fooled the smaller android, because it turned its attention to biting the poor monkey’s head off, before shoving another handful of candies in its mouth, smacking and chewing as loud as it physically could. Connor supposed it would have preferred being asked what its third favourite animal was, even though machines couldn’t have preferences or favourites. Nevertheless, the little android had promised not to wake it from its standby again if the RK800 just ate the blue, gummy fish between its thumb and index. Admittedly, Connor had always been intrigued by new substances and materials, and really didn’t mind trying something that wasn’t from a crime scene simulation. It popped the sweet into its mouth and chewed.

It tasted slightly sweeter than normal thirium, having undergone processing in order to make the liquid more gelatinous and prolong its shelf-life before it decomposed and evaporated. It stuck to Connor’s teeth and gums, making it wonder why humans liked to consume candy so much. It seemed like a hassle for such a short burst of flavour. But then again, maybe it wasn’t just humans. Charlotte had already emptied the packet.

“Finished,” the YK announced, her words muffled through the excess amount of sweets in her mouth. As she spoke, she giggled at the odd sound of her own voice, spraying half-chewed elephants and android spittle on Connor’s white uniform in the process. Delightful. The remains of gummy birds and beetles clung to its teeth as if afraid to fall down her merciless gullet. The entire area around its mouth was stained blood blue, as if the child had just taken a bite out of another android - though, with the viciousness it had just displayed towards the cute little animal figurines, Connor figured that it wouldn’t past the robo-ankle-biter. For some unknown reason, Connor had to shove back the foreign urge to take its own already stained shirt and use it to wipe the little one’s mouth.

**[ _//SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^//_ ]**

“Are you going to sleep now?” Asked the android, her its (it could not be a ‘her’, nor a ‘she’, it was only an object - just a _machine_ ) thirium stained lips curling into a pleading pout. Connor deliberated for a moment, weighing its options and their inevitable consequences.

**[ _//_** _DIAGNOSTIC_ _PROGRAM_ **_ENGAGED//_ ]**

**[ _//_** _BATTERY PERCENTAGE:_ **_89%//_ ]**

**[ _//_** _THIRUM PERCENTAGE:_ **_99%//_ ]**

“I suppose I _could_ stay active for a while, if I must.” The technicians may question why their RK800’s battery percentage was not at maximum capacity, but it wouldn’t be suboptimal, so they would have nothing to fuss over. Besides, the beaming smile that lit up Charlotte’s face just may have been worth it.

**[ _//SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^^^//_ ]**

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like it so far!!! The Jericrew may not like Connor right now, and their opinions won't change much over the course of the fic as they're not major characters and won't be around a lot. By the end they'll be better though! Even though it won't be in this story, I absolutely LOVE Connor's friendship with the Jericrew, especially North, and I'll probably expand on it in another story. 
> 
> Remember to comment!
> 
> Next POV is Connor-38's!!!


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